


Legends

by JayceCarter



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: AO3 FB Challenge, Caretaking, Friendship, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:10:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter
Summary: Nora doesn't like to show weakness, but when a migraine refuses to be ignored, she's forced to take help from an unlikely friend.





	Legends

**Author's Note:**

> So there was a challenge in a group I'm in to write a gen fic. Take a pairing you normally write and write them as a platonic pair. 
> 
> You know this isn't something I do much of. In fact, this was my THIRD attempt, the first two ending with the characters having sex. 
> 
> The lesson?
> 
> Writing gen is hard.

Nora's head throbbed. The lights bled in, past her eyelids. No matter how she tried to hide it, she knew the pain showed on her face.

 

She'd had a few migraines since waking up again, but they were small change compared to what her head was going through right then. Her pills had run out two weeks prior, though she'd been rationing them already

 

She'd started cutting them in half, taking them every other day. As the pills had dwindled, she'd taken them every three days and split them into smaller and smaller amounts.

 

Two weeks prior, she'd swallowed the last piece, a pathetic sliver that couldn’t have been more than a sixth of a full dosage.

 

So, she'd had breakthrough pain, migraines that taunted her, telling her they were coming back.

 

A trip to every medical center around had yielded nothing. She’d avoided Cade, however. She didn’t need the Brotherhood involved in her business any more than they already were. 

 

"Knight Jacobs?" Even the voice she had grown so used to, the one who spent day in and day out by her side grated on her nerves. Paladin Danse's words drug across her mind like gravel. "Nora?" He caught her arm, speaking more softly to get her attention.

 

Nora took a deep breath before she forced her eyes open and her face to smooth over. "Yeah?"

 

"Are you okay?"

 

She nodded. "Tired, that's all."

 

His eyebrows drew together. He probably caught the lie, but Danse wasn’t the sort to call her out on it. "I'm heading to the airport. Why don't you lie down? Perhaps you'll feel better in a few hours. Do you need anything? I could stay if you needed me to."

 

Nora shook her head, wishing Danse would just leave already. She wanted to haul herself into the small room that Danse used, to crawl into the bed, to curl into a ball and close her eyes until the pain receded.

 

She didn't need an audience, didn't need to explain to Danse what was wrong; she didn't need anyone to know she wasn't perfect.

 

Months in this fucking world and she'd been perfect. Every single step she made, she did it with her chin held high, with some sense of purpose, with people staring at her and holding her like some legend.

 

She couldn't be a legend right then.

 

Danse hesitated, so Nora plastered on a smile so wide her cheeks hurt. "I'll see you later?"

 

He released her and nodded. "Yes, of course. Later."

 

Nora waited until he disappeared through the doorway before she leaned to the side, her shoulder catching on the wall to keep her upright. She pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the wall, letting it soak into her skin.

 

"Knight Jacobs?" Another voice she didn't need to hear.

 

She pushed herself off the wall but didn't bother to try opening her eyes again. Not worth it. "Sorry, Elder. I was headed to my room."

 

"Are you all right?"

 

She nodded, fingertips against the wall as she walked forward. She knew the Prywden well enough to wall it in her sleep if she needed to. "Yeah. Fine. Thank you, Elder." She sped, trying to end the conversation.

 

Arthur Maxson wasn't the sort to care about anything beyond his mission. It meant he'd leave her be if she could just keep moving forward. Get to the room, to the darkness and quiet and privacy.

 

She turned the corner, steps from the door to Danse's quarters, to the silence and the breakdown she was so close to.

 

At least until a hand went to her back and steered her away.

 

Nora pulled away, throwing her elbow out. She proved too slow in her current state, and a hand wrapped around the elbow to keep it from landing.

 

"Relax. You will either go to see Cade for a medical exam, or you will allow me to take care of you."

 

"It's not your business, Elder."

 

"The well-being of all my soldiers is my business. Choose. Cades’s loud, bright, and noisy clinic or my quarters?"

 

That made the choice easy. The very thought of the noise in the main area of the Prydwen made her stomach roll.

 

"Your quarters," she whispered.

 

Arthur steered her, guiding her with one hand on her back and one around her elbow. His door creaked as it opened, then again as it closed.

 

He maneuvered her until her ass hit something soft. A mattress? She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes to check.

 

His hands left her, his footsteps telling her he remained in the room. Water ran, something clicked.

 

She didn't ask, working at just letting the silence of the room help.

 

"Do you have any negative reactions to med-x?"

 

"I don't like how it makes me feel."

 

"Understandable when used in a large dose. A very small dose injected into the muscles at the back of the neck can help. May I?"

 

She almost said no, but if there were even a chance it would help? She nodded.

 

Arthur shifted her hair off her neck, and the tiny sting from the needle was surprisingly adapt given his size and strength. She'd expected him to be rough and careless, but he used the needle like he'd done so in the past.

 

He leaned past her, moving things, then pushed at her shoulder until she lied down. Only, she didn't go back far. He'd propped things up behind her so she reclined. Something wet and cool pressed against her closed eyes, the relief immediate.

 

As the med-x took effect, she shuddered out a breath.

 

"Better?" His voice was low.

 

"How did you know?"

 

"I have some history with someone who had migraines. I used to help her. The look of a person in pain like that isn't something you forget."

 

Nora brought her fingers up and rubbed at the inner corners of her eyes, the action making the cloth over her eyes lose some of the water, it running down over her cheeks. "Thank you."

 

He said nothing at first, and Nora relaxed in the silence, the gentle hum of the Prydwen engines calming.

 

"Why did you not tell Paladin Danse? He'd not have left if he'd have known. Danse can be mission focused, but his people always come first."

 

"I didn't want him to know."

 

"That seems a common issue for you. You failed to let Cade know about this problem, you failed to speak to Danse in the midst of an attack, and you lied to me as well. It makes me wonder why you think you need to hide things from those around you? From those who are supposed to be your allies, if not your friends."

 

Nora moved the cloth up to her forehead before risking opening her eyes. She only cracked them, prepared for the pain, ready to snap them back shut.

 

The room was dim but not dark. How could Arthur know so well? A completely dark room was less helpful than a dim one. A light with some sort of cloth over it on the desk gave the room form, letting her make out it, make out the silhouette of Arthur who sat in a chair by the bed. "I didn't want to bother him."

 

Arthur shook his head. "That's not it. If that were it, you would have gone to Cade before now. I suspect you're keeping this from everyone. What will you do if this happens in the middle of a battle?"

 

"Fight or die, the same thing I do all the rest of the time."

 

His lips pressed together, but it was then she realized, he wasn't looking at her. No, he was staring at the far wall. Where was he?

 

She knew little about Arthur. Funny to think, for a man with such a well-documented history, but she suspected few people knew much about him. Sure, everyone knew the bullet points. The last of the Maxsons, killed a deathclaw at thirteen, became Elder at sixteen.

 

The moments between those? The real person behind all that? Nora doubted anyone knew that. She’d yet to see him with friends, with anything beyond subordinates. Perhaps, back where the Brotherhood had come from, he had closer people. In the Commonwealth, though? Nora had seen no sign of a personal relationship.

 

"You said you knew someone who had migraines. Who was it?"

 

Arthur's gaze came back to Nora, and for the first time since meeting him, he looked older. He didn't look like the twenty-year-old, but like he'd lived more years than she had. "Sarah. She was. . . " He trailed off for a moment, lips tilting up on one side. "She was something. She helped to raise me, teach me, tried to give me a real childhood in a world that did not wish to afford me that. She suffered from migraines for as long as I knew her."

 

"And you helped her?"

 

"Not at first. At first, she liked to hide away, much like you. It was ego, perhaps. She was a sentinel, lead our most prestige group. One time I snuck into her room, convinced I’d done something to annoy her and determined to make her forgive me. I found her curled up on the bed in tears. It took trial and error, but we found methods that eased her, at least a little. I couldn't fix it, but I could help, and I think that was enough."

 

"What happened to Sarah?"

 

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. It took so long to respond, she prepared herself for his rejection, for him to tell her it wasn't for her to know.

 

After a moment, he spoke, voice even lower than before. "She became Elder. She made for a good Elder, or she would have, had she had enough time to settle into the role. She was brave, kind, foolish in her belief of the good of people. She'd have led the Brotherhood well."

 

"What happened?"

 

"We were all reminded that the wasteland does not make allowances for bloodlines or titles. On a routine patrol, a suicider managed to jump a barrier. There was so much chaos, so much noise, no one could hear it. By the time they did, it was too late. She was dead before anyone could give her a stimpack." He rubbed his palm against the top of his thigh. "There was not anything to stimpack anyway."

 

"How old were you?"

 

"Thirteen. I was too young to take her place at that time. I'm grateful, really. Had I taken her place, right after, I think it would have felt like an insult to her. There were a number of Elders afterward, none worthy of note before, at age 16, I took over as Elder."

 

Nora tried to think about Arthur as a young boy mourning the loss of the only mother figure he'd had, forced to confront the instability in his world, and worse, to know he was expected to make some order out of that chaos.

 

And then he made more sense to her. His mission, the way he did not seem capable of bending, it all made a little more sense.

 

He released a soft laugh. "Quinlan would give up his cat to hear that story from me."

 

"Doesn't he already know?"

 

"He knows Sarah was killed in battle, but nothing else. Brotherhood records focus on the details, not the reactions." He stood, moving over to the shelving unit to retrieve a can of water. After he handed it to Nora, he took his place in the chair again. "So, now that you've gotten a story from me, perhaps you wish to be truthful about why you have failed to tell anyone about your problem? You have no shortage of friends, so why keep this secret?"

 

Nora popped the top open on the can and sipped. "I have to be more than that."

 

He didn't respond, though his eyebrow lifted.

 

"Do you know why people follow me? It's not because of me, not really. It's because of who they think I am. Hancock likes to call me The Woman Out of Time. I'm the vault dweller who crawled out of the ground after two hundred years, after surviving a nuclear war, to reign hell down on those who wronged me. People follow me because of who they think I am."

 

Arthur's fingers tapped on the top of the table."Perhaps we are not so different. Being a legend is not an easy road to walk. I grew up being told my soul was forged by eternal steel. I never believed it, but others did. It was that belief that I used to forge what the Brotherhood has become, to pull the remnants of what they were and turn them into the force they are now." He nodded as if she'd asked a question. "Yes, I understand the strain of living as a legend when you know you aren't one, when you know you're just a person."

 

And he did understand. It was written across his face, the weight a person carried when they had to be something they weren't. It was a burden some had to bear, had to accept. It was in the way she couldn't form attachments, couldn't make real friends. She had a mission, and she had to be whatever it took to get it done.

 

It meant that even though she'd have loved to tell Danse she hurt, that she'd have loved to have him sit down beside her, to stroke his fingers through her hair, to not have to be strong for just a while, it wasn't something she could have.

 

And, sitting there with the young Elder, Nora knew she'd found the one person who could understand that.

 

Arthur had done the things he'd done by the strength of his name, by his bloodline, by the faith others had in him. Any show of weakness could erode all he'd created, all he'd suffered for, all he'd built.

 

The way he'd spoken about Sarah told her all she needed to know about the fact he'd never mourned the woman. He'd never had the chance to.

 

People like them didn't have the luxuries to do so.

 

Much like Nate, who still rested in his cryotube. Not buried. Not mourned. Not forgotten, but hardly remembered.

 

There would be time later, perhaps, to indulge in that.

 

Until then? Until that point, she shoved that pain down, along with her migraines, and her heartbreak, and the loss of her whole world.

 

Arthur stood again, hands sliding into the pockets of his coat. "I have things to attend to. I expect you to stay here until you feel better. All day, ideally. No one will bother you; no one will come in. Take the time to be whoever it is you want to be when you're not busy being the woman out of time."

 

"And who are you when you're not busy being Elder Maxson?" 

 

His gaze moved from her to a journal on the nightstand, a quick jerk that he pulled back to her as if to hide it. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Rest up, Nora."

 

Nora sat up, amazed by the fact that his help had actually helped. The pain had lowered to manageable levels. Hell, if it weren't for his order, which was a good idea, she'd have been able to resume her normal activities already. "Thank you, Arthur."

 

He paused at the door, then turned and gave her a smile too old for his face. "We legends have to stick together." He left, the door closing behind him, leaving Nora and the question alone in the dim room.

 

Who was she when she didn't have to be the woman out of time? Who was Arthur when he didn't have to be Elder Arthur Maxson of the East Coast Brotherhood, the last of the Maxson line?

 

Nora reached over for the journal Arthur had looked at. The worn leather frayed at the edges, the paper inside uneven, as if it had been opened and closed so many times the binding had started to give. She opened the cover to find a messy name scrawled in child-like block letters.  _Arthur Maxson_. The next page had a story written in the same lettering, a sweet tale of a knight who fights a molerat and saves a princess lion he'd misspelled as Lyon. Page after page had stories, changing as he grew, the writing becoming more clear, the threats growing in severity. She reached the last page that was used to find a final entry.   


_They made me Elder, today._

 

She lied back and closed her eyes, replacing the cloth over her eyes.

 

Who was anyone when they stopped pretending?

 

Maybe the answer didn't matter as much as realizing you deserved to ask.

 

#

 

Arthur returned to his quarters near midnight. Nora had left hours before, and while he hadn't spoken to her, he'd seen enough to know she had recovered. 

 

Seeing her in pain had reminded him too much of Sarah, of the days he both cherished and hated. Seeing her in so much pain had hurt, but being able to spend that time, just the two of them, when nothing else could cloud the space, he'd loved that. 

 

He shrugged off his coat, his shoulders tight, back sore. When he turned, something on the table caught his attention. 

 

A notebook?

 

He picked it up, a frown across his lips. Had Nora left it? He should return it. 

 

He flipped open the cover to find writing on the first page. 

 

_We legends have to stick together. Take the time to be whoever you are when you're not Elder, and save some Lyons while you're at it._

 

Arthur stared at the writing, ready to shelve the notebook along with the old one, to put that aside as he had years ago when he'd decided he needed to be the person everyone saw. Not a child who wrote foolish stories, but a leader. 

 

Then he thought about Nora, the way she'd ignored her own needs for the sake of her role so long that it had driven her to her knees. Maybe a balance was needed, an ability to accept both parts of who you were. The legend you were to others and the person you were on your own. 

 

He sat down, opening the notebook to the first blank page, and picked up the pen beside it. 

 

_Once upon a time. . ._


End file.
